


Letters

by kayura_sanada



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Difficult Decisions, Epistolary, Hurt, M/M, Meeting In The Fade, Post-Break Up, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: The stupidest choice he made should have been falling in love with Solas in the first place. But no. It was to write angry letters and leave them on Solas' old desk for his elven spies to find and pick up.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Male Lavellan, Fen'Harel | Solas/Male Mage Lavellan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Letters

> Solas.
> 
> I have dreamed often of the day I could speak face to face with you. Finally, I would tell you all I know, all I have deduced. How I had suspected your involvement with Corypheus since the moment we spoke in Haven and you made mention of an artifact no one had seen or suspected before you remarked upon it. Your sudden, inexplicable presence in the mountains by the humans’ temple, your strange knowledge of the Fade and the rifts, the way you had just ‘guessed’ that the mark on my hand might be able to close the rift. And then, of course, the moment I had known for certain that you knew far more than you said – that moment on my balcony, when you called the mark an “anchor.”
> 
> I waited patiently, believing that you would still be here when the dust settled. Believing, foolishly, that you had chosen the Inquisition – no, chosen _me_ – instead of Corypheus and the path that had taken you to him.
> 
> I had thought, if I merely showed you that I was willing to listen – to accept whatever knowledge you had on our ancient past that made you feel obligated to turn to Corypheus for help with our artifacts – that you would know I would be willing to assist. I may not bloviate upon the subject like others of my people, but that does not mean I care any less.
> 
> Of course, the fatal flaw in my patient plan had been the belief that you would be here. That, after Corypheus fell, you would remain, and I would have the chance to speak with you.
> 
> My arrogance is partly to blame. But at least, in my arrogance, I had chosen to stay this course with you. So, while I must admit to my own part to blame, the fault of your cowardice remains.

Kios lay the paper within the piles still strewn upon the table in the middle of what had always been Solas’ workroom. Now it was empty, as it had been for the past several days. Ever since they had defeated Corypheus.

No one entered the room. He was certain Leliana and her spies were checking it, looking over what Solas had left, tearing it apart piece by piece, even as it looked the same as it always did. Hence why the letter he’d written lay in a careful fold that, on the outside, read, ‘Leliana, if you or your people open this seal, I will hang your nugs over the balcony by their shorthairs.’ He looked up, though he knew that, even if Leliana knew what he was doing, she would not be so crass as to be caught watching.

He looked over the desk. He could still envision Solas sitting there, the precise scratching of his quill as he wrote theories or connected information. The place where one of those strange cursed items had been remained empty, vacated only a couple of weeks ago as they’d completed the puzzle in the oasis. One of the artifacts Solas could feel sat beside the table, still glowing oddly. Not for the first time, Kios tried to sense it the way Solas could. Once again, he could not.

He drummed his fingers on the table. He’d already told Leliana to check and see if Solas had headed north, to this unknown ‘hometown’ of his. Kios had guessed long ago that Solas likely came from a place that knew far more about the ancient time of the elves than any Dalish clan. Ever since seeing the Temple of Mythal, he was even more certain of it. Perhaps Solas’ people, like Abelas’, had been in charge of protecting what remained, though Solas and his people would have struggled more, being mortal. Hence why Solas had told Abelas that he knew of elves like himself.

He let his hand slide away. It didn’t matter. He’d wanted so much to stand with Solas and speak on these matters, but that hope was long gone. Solas had left with a solemn farewell. Whether he’d returned home or not, he’d done so on the expectation that he and Kios would never meet again.

Kios grimaced, the stab of pain crippling despite how many times he’d felt it in the past few days. He took several deep breaths, refusing to rub at his chest like a sore. This was just another pain he was going to have to get used to. The fact that he couldn’t take out his rage and hurt on the person who had caused it merely meant he was experiencing the same as he had when he’d been a child.

He rubbed at the scar along the side of his left cheek, dragged his thumb down until it pressed into the deep mark on his upper lip. He would have preferred another physical scar. At least then, the pitying looks would be as shallow as the wound.

* * *

The room remained the same. At first, it seemed like Skyhold was merely waiting. Then, it seemed like the building was in mourning. Finally, it turned into a sort of grave.

Leliana’s people stopped picking at it long ago, leaving the carcass of Solas’ legacy to lay still and silent through the months, then years. Kios did not allow anyone else the use of that room, did not allow anyone to clean up Solas’ structured mess. It was the only sign he allowed himself that he was still hurting, and even then, he swore to himself that, once he found Solas and laid everything bare, he would take it all down himself.

If he ever found Solas. Because clearly, Solas did not wish to be found, and had no intention of existing in a place where he might be.

Kios kept telling himself that Solas’ continued absence was all the answer he needed. Yet still, he found himself returning to that table, sometimes more than once a week, wondering if, if he had only _demanded_ Solas speak with him, if only he’d _thrown_ his knowledge into Solas’ face, would he have been graced with a better ending than this.

* * *

> Solas. Fen’Harel.
> 
> I suppose it’s good to know that you would have turned from me, even had I told you what I knew. And I suppose it’s good to get confirmation, finally, of what I’d known, and finally have the missing pieces to the puzzle of your life.
> 
> Damn you. Damn you. _Damn you_.
> 
> To the end, you’re still a coward. Choosing my future, pushing me away. Refusing to explain anything, save that you are going to become a monster. Even now, as you cast me aside, you refuse to see me as an equal. You _idiot_. You woke up, looked at us, thought us less, and even now, after realizing you were wrong, stick to the path you laid out when you first woke. You wouldn’t even _try_ to speak with me, to work our minds together to find something better.
> 
> I was willing to give up _everything_ for you. I gave up my vallaslin, my place with my clan, my chance for a home, just to show you I trusted you. I ignored the anger and disgust of those in the Inquisition as we moved against the Qunari, because though I had learned the truth of you, I had chosen to trust you, anyway. To trust that you would not forsake everything, everyone – all that the elves have struggled for. That you would not forsake _me_.
> 
> Arrogance. It seems I never grew out of it.
> 
> You bastard. I _hate_ that I still love you.

Kios had been unable to make himself burn the ramblings he’d scribbled angrily onto paper as he returned, for the last time, to Skyhold. He slammed the letter onto the table, glared at what remained of Solas’ presence in the building. He considered cleaning it, or perhaps just trashing it, throwing it all to the floor. In the end, he stepped away, his hands clenched into fists, and snarled, “never again.”

He went to gather his things. It took three times as long as it would have with both his arms, and in the end, he had found himself carrying little more than he’d had when he’d gone to the Conclave.

He stopped just as he moved to open the door to his chambers and looked around. He had grown, if not comfortable with the way humans lived, then used to it. He could not return bare-faced to his clan, had no place to his name, and had only the word of Varric that he would be welcomed in Kirkwall – yet another human city. He had no idea where to go and little he could yet do, still adjusting as he was to the loss of an arm he oftentimes could swear he still felt.

He had nowhere to go and no one to be with. For the first time in his life, he had absolutely nothing.

The panic gripped him for only a few moments before the rage returned. He threw open the door and staggered out onto the stairs, taking them at a run until he could burst through the door to the main hall and rush through to Solas’ old room, intent on destroying everything, including his foolish letters.

He stilled.

After two years of staring at that unchanging pile, Kios had come to know it like one might a sculpture. Those papers had never been that far to the right. That empty space, cleared for the cursed piece, should have been larger. And the letter he’d thrown on top of it all, addressed to a man who would never read it, was gone.

He rushed to the table, his fingers shaking and clumsy as he pushed through the old papers, only to freeze again. His old letter, too, was gone. He snarled. Someone had taken them.

He left the room again, ready to search Skyhold up and down. It wasn’t until he found the few remaining nobles within the walls of Skyhold going hungry and annoyed, the tables left dirty, that he realized most of the elven servants had left. Most of the elven spies under Leliana’s employ had left. Scouts, warriors, researchers – only the smallest fraction remained.

Solas had taken them all. Nearly all of them, suddenly gone after Fen’Harel makes his move?

Finally, Kios retreated to his room, locking the door and sitting against it with his one remaining hand covering his face. He shook and shook.

Solas had told him that what he did with his Inquisition was up to him. He hadn’t told him that Solas would be taking a large chunk of the force… and leaving Kios, an elf and his purported love, behind. He was worth less than the elves in the kitchens.

And now, thanks to that, and thanks to his ostentatious fury earlier, the letters had been seen and taken. Solas would see.

He scraped his hand over his head and lowered his face to his knees. He hadn’t thought he could feel any more alone and miserable, but the world had proven him wrong. Again.

* * *

He headed out that night. There was little point in staying, despite the worry on Leliana’s face or the offer Harding gave to go with him. What was he to say to that? “No need; I have no destination to reach?” Non-Dalish could never understand the meaning of ridding oneself of one’s vallaslin, nor could they understand the fear of losing oneself outside of the _aravel_. Losing what little remained of the original elven culture. He would rather wander, just as Solas had said he did. Whether that had been true or not.

Besides. Kios wanted to be alone. He wanted to be alone for the rest of his life.

* * *

He’d gotten farther than he’d thought; his travels throughout Thedas had prepared him to take on the burdens of a long trek, even through harsh winter climes. He holed himself up against the edge of an outcropping, one large enough to nearly stop any snow from falling on a small spot of space. Sleep did not come easy, but after a couple of hours of forcing himself to remain beneath his blankets, eyes closed, he finally found himself slipping into the Beyond.

He should have been surprised to meet the wolf in his dreams. He should have been ready for it. Instead, he simply stared through the green mist of the false forest around him, gaze trapped on the multiple eyes of the wolf waiting on the outskirts of the treeline, and stood still, resigned to his fate. “Kill me,” he said simply, “or kill this pain, or let me rest.”

The wolf dipped its head.

He sucked in a sudden breath, realizing he may never have this chance again. Terrified, suddenly, that he would watch Solas walk, and his last words would be to tell Solas to leave him. “I would have stayed,” he said. The words tumbled out, unbidden, from scarred lips. Slowly, the wolf raised its head again. “If you had let me.”

The wolf’s gaze seared into him. Despite the distance, Kios knew what Solas was asking. “I have already chosen the fate of the world, several times over. Orlais, the mages, the Grey Wardens. I have shaped the world to my liking, and in doing so may have destroyed it. I am no innocent.” The wolf shook its head. Kios scoffed. “Of course. What do I know. You have already decided my fate. What choice have I but to comply?” His lips curled. “You are not my god, Fen’Harel. You do not choose anything for me.”

The wolf stayed, watching for a time longer. But in the end, he left.

Kios opened his mouth, but any words he could say stuck in his throat. He’d already told Solas he loved him, that their love would continue. He’d already asked to join, stated his belief that he could handle it. And Solas’ presence alone proved that he had read Kios’ letters. There was little else to say.

“I hate you,” he whispered, and wished it was the truth.

* * *

Solas committed the memory of the letter to the Beyond, into one of the few books remaining in one of the old libraries. Then he burned the original papers to ash.

_I hate that I still love you._

He had brought a curse upon Kios, and upon himself.

* * *

Kios stomped back through the gates of Skyhold, to the shock of everyone, including himself. “Inquisitor?” Harding said. She had met with him halfway upon his return, having clearly prepared to track him down.

“Round up every remaining member of my council,” he said, then, “if that bastard thinks he’s going to run me to ground, he’s got another thought coming.” Or another fist. Straight to the jaw.

“Yes, sir.” Harding grinned wide at the fury glittering in his unnatural eyes. She hurried past him to the main hall. He watched, his footsteps never pausing as he took in the bare-boned crowd left within Skyhold. The shops had all closed up, most already gone to their next, more profitable space. No longer did Sera or Cole greet him with a sight of them helping someone or pranking another. No longer could he hear the boisterous laughter of The Iron Bull and his Chargers as he passed the bar – also closing its doors, leaving the area around it emptier than it had ever been. He stared at the steps leading to the main hall and gritted his teeth. Even if it was alone, he would still shove Solas’ decisions back in his face. If it was the last act of his life, he would throw Solas against a wall and remind him exactly who Kios was.

He was Dalish, a First, and it was his job to guard the clans from Fen’Harel. Even if Fen’Harel was the very man he loved.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra appeared at the top of the stairs. He marched up to her. “What are you doing?”

“Gather everyone,” he said again, not pausing even as he reached her. She fell into practiced step at his side. “We’re going to find Solas and save him from his own stupidity, even if it kills us.”

Cassandra’s grin was all teeth. “Of course, Inquisitor.”


End file.
